ANToT: The Devil's Favor
by Everybody'sGrudge
Summary: After finally running down one of his three childhood demons, the man called Devil is in a slump. No work, no leads, no good. Until a pair of old clients come into the picture needing a favor concerning an old contract that needs new legwork. Things might start looking up for the world's first Pokémercenary. If the favor doesn't get him killed first.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer and Discussion: Hello again everyone. Its been a bit longer since I continued this story than I'd really expected, my apologies for that. My original intent to write a slice-of-life story for Pok_é_mercenary Devil set between larger entries sort of fell flat_._ Twice, even. They might do for noodle incidents, but as actual stories they were boring and overly long winded. Between that, moving, and my laptop dying suddenly I hadn't really been of a mind to work on any sort of fic until today._

_But enough about that, as of today Devil's quest continues. This is of course the second full length story in my "A New Type of Trainer" series, and follows the events of "The Devil's Bounty" which in turn followed "The Tragic Youth Where It All Began." If you haven't read those yet, I'd recommend doing so before you go any further than this one. I'm maintaining the rating at M, for some rather gruesome violence and allusions to the more mature subject matter that came up in Bounty._

_Oh, almost forgot the disclaimer. I of course do not own Pokémon. At all. Not even a little. Do not own a thing to do with it. You're reading this on a fanfic site. You know the drill. That said, I give you..._

_A New Type of Trainer:_

_The Devil's Favor_

_Chapter One: Contract Killing _

I sighed, loudly and as obnoxiously as I could manage. Unless my Pokémon could hear me from within their balls, I might as well not have bothered. The sharply dressed would-be client sitting across the desk wasn't listening, probably choosing to ignore my less than enthusiastic response to his blathering. Sitting primly in my comfortable but plain office chair, dressed in an expensive suit and bright power tie, he didn't look the type to really listen to anything.

I probably should have paid more attention. Business had been slow for over two months, after all. Well, even "slow" is honestly rather generous. Nonexistent would be more honest. Its one of the downsides to my profession, when things are going well and everyone keeps their nose clean no one needs a Pokémercenary. Considering the last official job I had been hired for, and how rough things got towards the end, I'd initially welcomed the lull. Just a few quieter, easier jobs would be nice. Or so I'd told myself. I just hadn't expected said lull to be so _long. _After recovering from a pneumonia-like condition I'd developed from one too many encounters with Poison-types, I'd spent the first two months since I captured Ms. Arabella Ragno working on my own time. During the events leading to her capture, I'd gotten wind of some of the people who worked for her. Tracking down and capturing a few fairly small time pimps and dealers had filled some time while I got back up to full strength. No one had called me for work since I handed over the last of them.

So, as I swung my boots up onto my desk and half-listened to the droning speech filling my office, I really should have been paying attention. I didn't need the money from any particular job very badly, not after the large to excessive payments I'd already earned from previous work. But looking around my too-clean office, anyone who's ever known me would see I needed something to do. Some distraction, almost anything would do in the short term.

I briefly checked in with my ears, confirming that yes Mr. Allen, who wanted to hire me, was still babbling on about one of his employees he wanted me to find and take care of. He'd been embezzling from Mr. Allen's company apparently, not the sort of crime I'm used to hearing about. I tuned him back out, listening only intently enough to be aware if he shut up, and let the thought that had been bothering me float across my thoughts again.

_ She hasn't said a thing to them,_ I thought firstly, followed closely by _And they still haven't let me talk to her. _Ragno had turned out to be a tougher cookie to interrogate than the International Police had guessed. According to my contact with them, a strange man with the codename "Looker," she had not in fact said a single word since being taken into custody. Four months of total silence was far more hardcore than anyone they had experience with. And, perhaps unsurprising considering my personal history with the woman (not to mention that I am not a cop, lawyer, or any other profession that gets access to accused criminals), they wouldn't let me anywhere near her. Before I could start grinding my teeth over the issue, my guest interrupted my line of thinking.

"Mr..." he began, then hesitated.

"No Mr," I told him. "It's just Devil." I suppressed a smirk. Even surly from lack of action, intimidating people still amuses me a bit.

"Yes, Devil. Right," he smiled, a bit shakily. "Are you still listening? This is a rather urgent matter, but you seem to be..." he trailed off again, probably choosing words more tactful than "daydreaming" or "zoning out." Assuming anyone so self-important used such casual language.

"My apologies if I seem inattentive," I didn't even try to sound like I meant it. "I have some urgent matters of my own that are regrettably beyond my ability to _do _anything about at present." I cast my mind back a few minutes, reviewing the words my ears had caught despite my total lack of comprehension as they were said. "I understand this employee of yours, one George Martin, embezzled a rather large sum of money," I went on, although from the figures Allen had quoted it really wasn't much compared to the company's net-income. They apparently produced some of the more expensive alloys for manufacture of Poké Balls and compatible PC uplinks. That's a very profitable business. "What I don't understand," I forestalled him from getting going on the matter again, "is why you're bringing it to me rather than the police."

"Well, a great many people bring you this sort of work, rather than the police, do they not?" he responded. "The police themselves even ask you in on investigations and the like, from what I hear." Which was true, of course. Except that the sort of criminal people want me looking for aren't normally white collar thieves. They also don't generally look like a healthy ten year old could knock them over, as the man in the photo Allen had showed me did. No, whether its the cops or anyone else who calls me, its usually to deal with someone or something they're not sure the cops can handle.

"That's not a 'why' though, so much as a 'why not?' Mr. Allen," I took my feet off the desk and sat upright. Allen leaned away a bit at the reminder of how much bigger I was than him. "Do tell, why do you want me on this job?"

"I hear things... they say that some of the people you go after don't make it into custody alive," he laid the truth out there. And then blanched as I stood up and glared at him over the desk. "Don't get touchy about it," he managed to sound more reproachful than afraid, which I might have admired if it hadn't come more from the wallet than the backbone. "You're a mercenary, you do what you get paid to do."

"You've got the wrong idea of what a mercenary does buddy," I growled. "Yes, you do the jobs you get paid to do, but the best thing about it is you get to pick what tasks you will or won't do. What contracts you do or don't take. Oh, you might starve if you only get one kind of offer and turn 'em all down, sure. But if you're only getting one sort of offer, you suck at the job anyway," I laid a hand on the first Poké Ball in the little rack on my desk, watching carefully as the indignant expression my tone and phrasing had caused faded from the asshole's face.

"I checked you out before I came in here," he finally said in a near whisper. "Its on record, you've killed men before."

"Yep, women too," I reminded him. "And considering you found a _record _of it, you know it was all official. Investigated. Otherwise I'd be in jail you twit," I sneered. Although in actuality, the folks in charge didn't know about every person I'd been forced to take down permanently while on the job. The police take a dim view of such things when I'm not working directly for them, under their authority. "Let me put it into nice, simple words for you. I am not a hitman. Now..." I sat back down and slouched, dismissing any importance he might have once thought he had, "Get out of my office." He stood up slowly, face red with anger, and opened his mouth to argue. Perhaps make some threats, possibly of a financial nature. He never got the chance, a quick knock interrupted, followed by my office door swinging open.

"I'd do as he says, if I were in your shoes," said the older man standing on the left with a mild Kanto accent. The blonde woman, younger than he, just nodded. Allen spun towards them, apparently deciding these would be the perfect targets to work off his frustration at being denied.

"Who the hell are you? Have you been eavesdropping? I'll have you know..." I didn't care what he'd have us know. I picked up my sword, still sheathed, from it's stand beside my desk and prodded him sharply with the tip of the saya, shoving him into a stagger headed in the general direction of the door.

"That's Lorelai, formerly of the Indigo Plateau Elite Four, on the right," I introduced the first of the new arrivals in a malicious tone. "And that's Professor Oak on the left, maybe you've heard of him? Ex-Indigo League Champion? Most famous Pokémon Researcher in the world?" I paused to flash a wink and grin at Oak and Lorelai while Allen's back was to me. As he turned back to face me, I put on a scowl and leaned on my sword like a cane, picking up the ball containing my Blaziken to bounce lightly in my palm. "Oh," I stepped out from behind the desk, "and why are you still here again?"

"Well, now that he's gone," I put a genuine smile on for my new guests, "Have a seat. Can I get you two anything? Coffee?" I set my sword and Spitpyre's ball aside, now that I lacked anyone to intimidate. Oak accepted, still chuckling a bit. Allen's quick, stumbling departure had been fairly amusing. I busied myself fetching coffee for him and myself while Lorelai contented herself with ice water, dragging over the only other chair in my small office. Once settled, I brushed the photo and one page of information on George Martin off of my desk and into the garbage with some satisfaction before turning to my guests. "So, what brings the two of you to Sinnoh?"

"We're here to see you," Oak took the lead. No surprise there, I've only met Lorelai a few times but she has always been a quiet one. I found myself arching an eyebrow, surprised. I'd been expecting them to have some sort of work for me, while I quite like both individuals we're not nearly close enough to merit social calls even if we lived in the same region. We don't exactly move in the same circles after all. But, I hadn't expected their business with me to be their sole reason for traveling to Sinnoh either. "Its not something we wanted overheard, you see," the older man explained. Oak may study Pokémon for a living, but he knows people almost as well. He'd seen my thoughts written on my face and posture even as I had them.

"Something sensitive enough not to trust PokéGear then, I take it?" Lorelai nodded, sipping her ice water. There were clinking sounds from the glass, her hand was shaking, knuckles white. Its tough to tell with Lorelai, but that was enough to know she was absolutely furious about something. I automatically checked the distance between us, Lorelai is ex-Elite Four for a reason. I did not want that fury to be directed at me.

"We'd rather no one be aware of some of the details, beyond anyone who's already involved," she confirmed aloud. As I'd have expected her smooth, rich voice held no sign of the anger her hands betrayed. Seemingly perfectly controlled, even her islander's accent was nearly imperceptible. It's a pretty common trait, in those who specialize in the Ice-type, though you'd never know it from our own Ice-specialist here in Sinnoh. Despite the calm inflection, I detected a hook in what she'd said. She was concerned about the recently departed Mr. Allen, who did after all seem like the type to listen at doors. I waved a hand in acknowledgment and turned towards the small closet in the rear corner where all my office supplies are stored.

"Lucky, I need a security sweep out here," I called softly. At once, the unlatched door swung outward as my Luxray stalked into the room. Oak gave me a surprised look, though Lorelai naturally betrayed nothing. Not many people let their Pokémon walk free these days, and there were six balls on my desk. But I've brought down too many nasty people, many of whom have nasty friends. I like to have one of my team ready to go when I'm sitting down to work. "Have a look around big guy, lemme know if anyone's got a glass pressed up against the wall or anything."

The big cat walked a circuit of the room, his eyes glowing as he looked through solid matter to see beyond it. You can't hide from a Luxray that wants to find you, not so long as its eyes are in working order. After a few moments, Lucky sat down in front of the door with a disappointed huff that signaled the all clear as well as any words a human could have spoken. There was no one nearby to fight with, it said. Lucky was hard up for action as well.

"No eyes or ears nearby except ours," I translated for the two humans watching the predator in the room. They turned back towards me and nodded, Lorelai perhaps looking a little put out. A goodly portion of her team are half Water-type, after all.

"Good, good," Oak looked a bit less happy, now it came down to discussing business. "We need you to look into something for us, a theft. We have of course taken the matter to the International Police already," he winked at me, so I knew he must've overheard at least that much of Allen's request. "But we think you need to be involved as well."

"Its related to a contract you've taken with us in the past," Lorelai helpfully explained. I went still for a moment in recollection. I'd done a handful of jobs for Oak over the years, once tracking down a hacker who'd stolen the latest Pokédex software the old scientist had created, another time finding one of his Pokédex helpers who'd gotten lost outside Lavender Town. The man is an excellent judge of character, and sees the potential of any given child or Pokémon very quickly. But everyone picks a lemon now and then. Lorelai I'd only worked with once.

"What's happened at the preserve?" I asked. The preserve was important. Set up some years ago by the very people seated in my office, it was a completely private wildlife rebuilding site meant to breed the increasingly rare Lapras back up to a healthy population. The powerful, yet gentle beasts barely put up a struggle when attacked, whether it be by a trainer who desires them for their team or collection or someone looking to make a profit from their meat and valuable shells. They needed all the help they could get. Helping secure the preserve when it was first established on the northern side of Floe Island was one of my proudest memories.

"Theft. Murder. Nothing good," Oak had steel in his voice. Lorelai wasn't the only one feeling rage. "Two of the game wardens are dead. Fifteen young Lapras are missing. We need you to come back with us and help us find out what the _hell _happened out there."

"Let me get my coat," I said, not even bothering to finish my coffee as I stood up. "Either of you have a Flying-type with you? We can get down to the water-front in Canalave and hire a boat before the sun sets if you do."

I grinned as they hurried to join me in locking up and leaving. I was pissed off, as you can imagine. But I'd be a liar if I said it didn't feel good to have someone who deserved a beating to look for.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two: Traveling Expenses_

As it turns out, we did not in fact head for Canalave City. Its where I normally go when I need to travel beyond the borders of Sinnoh, as cargo and passengers come and go by ship regularly from the city via the docks. On this occasion though, I had forgotten to factor Oak and Lorelai into my thinking. At their direction, we headed instead for a small airport a ways north of Hearthome City. I hadn't even known it was there, but upon arriving I could see I'd have had little use for it anyway. Travel by air is apparently ridiculously expensive. But of course, I was on the job now. And I include expenses in my bill, travel included. I just wouldn't need to bother with a receipt for this one.

Neither Oak nor Lorelai is what I'd really call rich. But neither of them is anything like poor either. In point of fact, had they not spent so very much of their money on things like Lapras Preserves, Pokédex development and refinement, and so on they likely would be rich. Being Elite Four pays very well from what I hear, let alone being Champion. Oak had saved up a pretty nest egg during his time as Champion, back in the days of his youth. Lorelai was certainly no slouch in that department herself, having had enough cash to purchase the rather large plot of ocean-front property needed for her project. To top it off, they were of course both famous and highly respected. Assuming either of them walked into a bar, they wouldn't spend a dime buying their own drinks.

Point being, rather than the cheap but effective trip I'd had in mind, stretching over a week to reach the Sevii Islands, we arrived in Kanto in just a bit more than six hours. After that, it was a simple matter of calling out Big Bird and settling in to follow Oak and Lorelai on another flight, sans plane, to Floe Island.

Conversation is all but impossible during Pokémon based flight. So to is reviewing the reports my clients had collected for me about the theft. What you _can_ do during a long flight (and despite the speed at which we were moving, it does take a bit to reach the Sevii Islands from northern Kanto) is think. I'd already read through the documents provided on the flight over, so as I leaned against Big Bird's soft feathers to cut wind resistance I went over the information I'd been given.

The entry point for whoever had committed the thefts was out in the ocean to the north of Floe Island. Whoever had done it had access to either a boat or Surf-capable Pokémon. Not much help, Water-types are extremely numerous across every region. The sea is vast, after all, not even including the lakes, ponds, streams and rivers that flow into it. If travel had been made possible by Pokémon, however, it was probably more than one. You'd need something like a Wailord to transport the estimated number of people who'd perpetrated this crime.

The preserve is guarded by fencing all the way around, covering the entrance to Icefall Cave on the northeastern side of the island and the small lake that surrounds it, and then continuing over the rocky hills to the coast. From there, pylons driven deep into the ocean floor allow fencing to continue on for ten miles, rising above the waves. You can't even Dive under, as the security fence goes right to the bottom. Still, breaking in would be a cinch for anyone with the right tools or mons if a fence alone was entrusted with keeping people out. Even a fence you can neither go over (the damn thing is close to fifty feet high and lined with razor sharp wire) or under can be burned or cut through eventually. Which is exactly why I proposed the guard towers.

There were five of them in total, and they hadn't been inexpensive to build. But Lorelai was taking this project seriously, and hadn't spared the expense for security as many would have. Two stood atop the tall hills above Icefall Cave, three rose from the waves out beyond the shore. With their height and spacing, anyone trying to come in would be spotted by one of the five guards each individual tower housed, or by one of the Keen Eyed Pokémon they kept on hand. They were on duty for a month at a time, then off for a month to return home. So everyone stayed fresh, no one got sloppy. The sea-towers had a small dock for speedboats, and all five were equipped with radios in addition to the guards' individual gear. Anyone trying to come in would be spotted in a hurry, and guards armed with a variety of Pokémon would converge on their location to deter them. When Oak and Lorelai hired me, I took the job seriously. Not only had I handled security personally for several months, I'd tested the guards multiple times through mock break-ins before leaving to pursue other interests. Their fast-response training was top-notch, and while I'm certain I could take any one of them in single battle they don't come in one at a time. If a poacher showed themselves, they'd find themselves facing as many as fifteen trainers simultaneously.

It was a good setup, but even the best security has weaknesses. As Big Bird set down on the exterior platform for guard tower five, I saw the hole in our planning. Everyone involved, myself included, had set this preserve up to keep out the average trainers looking for a Lapras. And for that sort of individual, I admit security was honestly overkill. Or I would, if I believed there was such a thing. But the best security has weaknesses, and looking at tower five I knew ours hadn't been the best.

"I'll leave you to it," Oak said, looking away from the scene in front of me. "I'm headed over to tower one, where we set up the infirmary. The survivors are there, we can't risk moving them to a proper hospital yet." I nodded, scowling at the scene in front of me. "Call me on the PokéGear if you need anything," he called before his Fearow spread its wings and shot off towards the island with a shriek. Lorelai stayed, and while her face remained impassive as ever her eyes blazed with enough anger to equal my scowl at the least. What was I scowling at? What had even Lorelai, Ice Queen of Kanto, glaring holes through the steel deck?

Blood, mostly. Three chalk outlines, evidence placards still resting beside them from when crime scene photos had been taken. One whole wall of the main observation room was missing, a long cooled puddle of slag metal marring the floor below where it had been. One of the "lucky" survivors had been standing near it when it went, extensive burns had kept him out of the fight that followed.

"Neither of the guards who survived have been able to talk yet?" I asked Lorelai, striding forward to look over the scene more closely.

"No, they're both in critical condition. They don't expect Samson to make it," she hooked her chin back towards the railing. A sticky mess of blood and hair clung to the rim there. Samson had been in charge of this tower when it was hit. No one was sure what hit him, but he'd been sent flying out of the watch room and struck his head on the rail when he came down.

"The reports," I spoke up after a sombre silence, "said the cameras, radios, and other gear were all fried. Lack of radio contact is what brought the team from tower three over here to check in. The office are is trashed, but it doesn't look like they were tossing the drawers. Pretty sure that's collateral damage from the fight. And in addition to the Lapras, this tower's fast-response boat was also stolen. Probably taken through that hole in the fence when they left," I nodded toward said hole, just visible at surface level far below us. "Anything else worth mentioning?" Lorelai shook her head as I worked what we knew through my own. "Ok, here's how I think it went down..."

I laid it out for Lorelai. A strike team had approached from the sea-ward side and managed to climb the side of the tower to watch-level, then rapidly melted their way through the wall using a Fire-type move. One of the first assailants through no doubt had a Magnemite or higher evolution of that family with them, its magnetic field used to disable monitoring and communications gear upon arrival. One of the dead guards had signs of electrical damage, so it had been used in the battle as well. And it had been a battle, the guards had sold their lives as expensively as possible. There were blood stains near the entry hole of several different Pokémon, and human blood that probably didn't belong to any of the guards as well. The guards, excepting the poor soul who'd been burned down alongside the wall, had been found naked. Thus it seemed likely that the attackers had stolen their uniforms, descended to sea-level, and set out on the boat to capture their fill of Lapras. Then they'd cut through the fence and hauled ass, while anyone still in the tower had left the way they came. It had been quick, brutal, and efficient.

"One thing I still don't understand is how they got close to the tower without being spotted," Lorelai looked out at the miles of ocean outside the preserve. "The whole point of the towers was to spot potential intruders coming. I walked over to the hole in the wall in answer and carefully leaned out to point down.

"I imagine they traveled underwater until they got right up to the structure, and surfaced there," I indicated a darker patch of water, likely leading to an underwater cave or cavern. "When you hired me before we scouted the area for deep water dive spots and made sure none of them were inside the perimeter." I shook my head, cursing mentally. "We didn't think to make sure they couldn't be used to slip in close." Resisting the urge to punch the wall, I turned back to my client. "Anything else worth mentioning that wasn't in the reports?" Lorelai hesitated before answering.

"Yes," she finally said. "We lost 17 Lapras, not 15. One of the males was killed, and one more was stolen." I looked at her inquisitively. "They took Gerty," she clarified softly. It shouldn't have been a surprise, but I gasped anyway. And then growled.

Gerty was the matriarch of the Lapras pod that lived in the preserve. The oldest female, and the most powerful of the lot. The easiest way to actually find the Lapras swimming in those miles of ocean would be to attract them. The sound of something thrashing in the water will bring them in just as fast as it would a hungry predator, if for very different reasons. The gentle beasts are constantly bringing terrestrial Pokémon who was out to sea from Floe Island back to shore, they actively enjoy ferrying creatures across the water. Gerty would have been one of if not the first one to arrive.

I liked Gerty. I'd spent rather a lot of time surfing around the perimeter of the preserve over the months I spent here while the towers were built. Gerty had come with me most of those times, diligently watching in case I needed a ride back to shore. She was gentle, even for a Lapras, and more friendly than some of the shy beasts. Even Bruce, my Sharpedo, had liked her sufficiently that I'd never had to restrain him from trying to Crunch her shell when she got close. She was the very first Lapras to have been released into the preserve, set loose in the icy waters inside Icefall Cave and allowed to find her way through the underwater caverns to the sea. And she was powerful indeed, hatched from an egg bred from Lorelai's two tame Lapras. Gerty was quite a prize indeed, far beyond any of the youngsters that had joined her in her new home or the many offspring she'd personally produced.

"Alright," I had to grit my teeth to speak levelly, but I managed. "So we have a good idea what happened and why. Those are important bits of info, what and why. Is there _anything_ that points to who?"

"I've got something that might help," called one of the guards from tower four who'd been working on mending the fence below. "Sorry to interrupt ma'am, sir," he said with a respectful nod to Lorelai as he ducked inside to join us. "We just got the dead male ready to transport back to shore, and thought you'd want to know we'd found these Sharpedo teeth broken off in his shell," he explained, holding up a plastic evidence bag with six sharp, serrated triangles of white enamel rattling inside.

Cook, as his name tag identified him, was a good guard to have spotted those and brought them straight to the boss. But he was a Kanto boy born and raised, and very likely had never seen a Sharpedo in his life. The big sharks are native to the waters of my home region, Hoenn, after all. Hell, there aren't any Dark-types _at all_ in Kanto, though the reason for that evades even Prof. Oak to this day.

"Those aren't Sharpedo teeth," I said knowingly, my hand unconsciously reaching up to grip the Dive Ball which houses Bruce. "Too small. Those," I couldn't keep a little quiver of angry excitement out of my voice, "are Carvahna fangs."


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three: Sniff Out_

As Lorelai led the way back to shore on the back of her own Lapras, I did my best to stay calm. I told myself that just because one of the attackers had a Carvahna didn't necessarily mean I was on the trail of one of the bastards I'd been chasing since I was 17. Lots of criminals like Dark-types, fully half of the Aquas who'd been caught had one or more.

It didn't matter. There was a feeling in the very air around me, echoes of the sensation that had run down my spine when Looker set me on the hunt for Arabella. I'd have been enthusiastic in my pursuit of the people who attacked the preserve anyway, but now that I had this hunch that I might be looking for a very specific Aqua Grunt? Oh, Lorelai and Oak were going to get my best work.

That grunt was going to get my _very_ best work.

That just left the one problem: Despite a thorough look-see at the scene, the assailants' point of entry, and the corpse of the dead Lapras, I only had part of the picture. I had a decent picture of what had happened and how, a thrilling hunch about the who, and we all knew why. Now the big question became "where?" Where had they gone after they pulled off the heist? Nothing in particular seemed to point to any particular location. If I intended to follow (and hell itself couldn't stop this Devil from doing just that) I needed more information.

"I saw forensics had already been here and gone," I called from my perch on Bruce's rough back, grabbing my smokes from a coat pocket and rooting for the new lighter my friend Tiff had gotten me months ago. I normally don't like to smoke while surfing, but my nerves were still jangling. Besides, the devil's head embossed on the red metal, somewhere between snarling and grinning, always gets a smile out of me. "They find anything you haven't told me about yet?"

"No, I'm afraid not," Lorelai was patting her Lapras affectionately, comforting and taking comfort all in one. I could just barely make out a bit of Lapras-song, nearly sub-audible. I've heard grieving Lapras sing before, nearly anyone who's ever seen a wild one has thanks to the over-hunting. Quiet as it was, this was somehow even more heartbreaking.

"You know what sort of procedures they went through? Any evidence gathered for analysis that hasn't gotten results back?" The preserve was a big deal for Kanto, fully endorsed by the Indigo Plateau Pokémon League and pretty much all levels of local government. There would be one hell of a rush put on all this. Someone was probably using Cut on miles of red tape even as we surfed towards Floe Island.

"There were a couple of blood and soil samples that might have come in with the attackers. They're being kept at tower one for the moment, they have lab techs setting up there to get a head start on making sure." We rode in silence for a few moments, the ex-Elite still stroking and patting her Lapras almost compulsively. Finally she broke the silence, if only just considering how softly she said "I should have been here, you know?"

"No, I don't. You can't be here all the time. You can't be on all five towers at once."

"I gave up my seat on the Elite Four to make this place happen, where else should I have been?" she ignored my second point. I shook my head and stayed quiet for the moment. She was grieving as strongly as the Lapras she rode. She'd snap out of it faster without me pouring salt in the fresh wound.

When we made landfall, I immediately turned and strode towards tower one, Lorelai close behind me. There, in front of the entrance, were two large tents pressed side to side with the flaps rolled up to form a sort of low-ceiling pavilion with several large stainless-steel tables inside. Cops moved around inside and out, some in uniform standing guard, others in plain clothes taking notes or discussing whatever was inside the various notebooks and file folders on hand. Scientists in lab-coats, probably lab techs, stood at the tables reviewing papers and staring into microscopes.

Holy hell, they were taking this one seriously. I almost felt unnecessary for a moment. Then I looked to the right. A short ways off, a number of the detectives and uniformed cops were battling each other, though obviously not in earnest. They were doing combat drills, and it was clear they needed them. Not a single man among them had a fully evolved Pokémon, not counting those with no evolutions like the Farfetch'd I saw one young woman send out. As I walked past, I could see them fumbling through low-level techniques like Tackle and Scratch. I carefully kept a neutral face as we approached the doors, the uniforms standing guard giving me an unhappy look until Lorelai waved them aside. These people might have pulled out all the stops for numbers and forensics, but in a fight I think I could take the entire lot of them.

I dismissed those thoughts as we stepped inside, relishing the air conditioned interior. It wasn't overly warm outside, but riding across the waves, being bombarded by the sun from multiple angles? Yeah, it gets hot pretty quick. Looking around, I could see the game wardens assigned to tower one this week were being left pretty well alone. The hallway had a few of the larger bits of evidence forensics had seen fit to take, including a section of the fence that had been breached, a pair of whole floor and wall panels with blood spatter, and other such odds and ends that hadn't gotten to the techs as of yet.

"Where are your boys at?" I asked Lorelai, pulling her gaze away from the bloodied panels.

"Up on the watch-level. We don't expect any more trouble so soon, but it gives them something to do. And keeps them away from all this," she tilted her head to indicate the evidence set aside here. "And you never know. Maybe whoever did this will come back." She sounded hopeful, under the icy inflection. I knew the feeling, but found it rather dubious. Contrary to popular depictions in fiction, smart criminals really don't return to the scene of the crime all that often. I just nodded and walked over to peer down at the evidence logs. I didn't recognize any of the techs or cops who'd signed off on anything, but that was no surprise. Aside from Looker I don't deal with most police officers for longer than it takes to hand over a handcuffed asshole and receive a check.

I was about to head upstairs and check in with the wardens when a young detective walked in behind us, respectfully taking off a fedora he'd been wearing. I'd have rolled my eyes at his inability to carry the look off in better circumstances, but it was hardly his fault. They might not have a literal uniform, but there is an unspoken dress code among most detectives I've met anyway. He eyed me, taking in my sword with distaste, then walked up and nodded to Lorelai.

"If you and this... gentleman will stand aside for a moment, I need to check some of the evidence in here ma'am." We stood aside, watching as the detective unclipped a Heal Ball from somewhere inside his coat and gave it a gentle toss.

I took another step back and turned to the side just in time to avoid the snap of sharp teeth from the Girafarig's rear head. The primary head turned to see what it's own ass had tried to bite, snorting at me as I glared at her owner. I'd have appreciated a bit more warning, its not a good idea to stand behind most herbivores. Even less so those with teeth in their rear. I'd expect better mon-safety out of a cop. From the too-innocent look on his face, he'd probably done it on purpose. After giving me an especially shit-eating grin, the cocky little punk turned back to the actual task at hand.

"Deuce, gimme an Odor Sleuth on this plate here," he commanded, keeping back to let the Girafarig do her thing. The Long Neck Pokémon stepped forward and stretched her signature neck out, not quite touching the floor panel with the small spatter of dried blood. The sound of deep, heavy inhalations filled the room as she took in whatever scent might be present and worked to identify it.

Odor Sleuth is one of those techniques you don't really see much of in competitive circles, let alone in the more brutal form of combat I'm accustomed to. Its normally used to nullify a Ghost-type's immunity to Normal-type attacks. Which comes in handy sometimes, true, but with so many Pokémon able to utilize at least a handful of Dark and Ghost-type attacks themselves its generally easier to just Crunch or Shadow Ball them into submission. But, much like my Luxray's x-ray vision, just because something isn't overly useful in battle doesn't mean its useless. At least, not in the right context. After a few moments of sniffing, the Girafarig raised its head and looked at her trainer.

The creature gave no outward sign that she was communicating with the detective, but the look in her eye and the inquisitive sound of her call told me she was doing just that. The mildly uncomfortable look on his face was another indication, like me he seemed to find having a Psychic-type in his head unpleasant. I watched, curious. I've never owned a Girafarig, nor really spent much time training any Psychic-type Pokémon. I _did_ have some experience communicating with them, however, including Cresselia herself. There normally aren't words in the thoughts they send to you, not exactly. Instead, what they send at you is more like... impressions. General feelings, or snatches of visual. Considering how differently some Pokémon view the world as compared to humans, it can be rather difficult to understand. Or even painful to try.

"Alright, that's good work Deuce," the detective turned to Lorelai, pointedly ignoring me. I didn't care, I'd hear whatever he relayed just as well if I didn't exist to him. "Deuce has a familiar scent here ma'am, other than your boys. We worked a case last week in Johto," I noticed dimly that he had a hint of a Johton accent, "There was a burglary in Azalea Town, a pretty decent haul of Kurt's custom Poké Balls were stolen." I nodded, although the cop still didn't care to acknowledge me. Kurt's balls are excellent quality, made the old fashioned way from apricorns rather than mass produced from plastic and metal. They could sell for a pretty penny, and depending on the apricorn used they had properties not easily replicated by the folks at the Silph and Devon Corporations. "Whoever bled on this panel, they were there. She's sure of it."

"So you're going to Johto? What makes you think they went back there?" Oak asked a few hours later, after I'd exhausted myself fighting with the police presence over whether I should have access to their reports. Lorelai had eventually stepped in and demanded it on my behalf, at which point they jumped to obey. Retired though she is, she's still Elite Four as far as they're concerned. It chafed to need her help, I'm rather used to cooperation from the police. Between Arabella's complete lack of speech and this, I'd begun to grow a tad irritated with them as a whole.

I leaned against the wall of one of the offices in tower two, where we'd met back up with Oak to share what we'd learned, and took a drag from my cigarette. I'd normally refrain from smoking inside, but Oak had his pipe going and offered me a light, so I went with it. Oak himself hadn't learned much, aside from finding out that another of the guards had died during the trip to and from Sinnoh, bringing the total up to three dead and two wounded. It wasn't looking good for the other two either, but they were still hanging in there for the time being. For myself, I'd informed him of Deuce's findings back at tower one and my plans to follow up on it.

"I'm not sure they did, and there really isn't much sense in going back to Azalea Town. I read the reports, they didn't leave a stone unturned. Kurt is a popular guy, they went to the wall for him," I smiled. I met Kurt once, even caught a Nidorino with one of his Moon Balls. He's good people. "But its all we have to go on right now. I'll take the Magnet Train and get myself a room somewhere. Probably..." I trailed off while I consulted the Johto Map-Card I'd slotted into my PokéGear "Ecruteak is pretty central to the region, I'll get myself a place to stay there. I can get out in the field, talk to the right sort of people and maybe find something if its there. If not, we haven't lost anything but time and that's going past in a hurry anyway." Oak nodded, seeing the sense in that even if he did look dubious on the chances of anything coming of it. "You guys have my PokéGear number, so if anything worth knowing comes up here you can get me back within a day."

That seemed to settle that, and I headed for the door while rummaging in the pockets of my pack looking for my sword permit. I'd forgotten all about it during the flight in from Sinnoh and been forced to check it as baggage, only to find the damn permit shoved between a my stock of Burn Heals upon landing. Just as I stepped outside, Lorelai came out behind me and got my attention with a polite cough.

"Before you go, take this," she held out one hand, upon which was a glittering shard of ice. Ice that, I noted, was a frigidly cold as anything I'd ever touched. No melt-water pooled in my palm as I'd have expected, my body heat had as little effect on it as Tackle would have on a Dusknoir. "Its for your Glaceon. I don't expect it'll help much with the people you're looking for, but take it anyway." I looked down at the Never Melt Ice she'd given me and pulled out 'Scicle's ball to hand it over before leaving.

"Every little bit helps Lorelai, thanks." I waited a moment, letting 'Scicle sing out his fierce, prideful cry at the Ice-Master looking on, which as I'd hoped got a smile out of her. "You and Oak take care of things here," I swept my gaze over the preserve. "I'll take care of them out there. Promise." I tossed a Premiere Ball into the air and was soaring back toward the mainland before she could answer. I wasn't sure I wanted to know if she'd heard the stress I place on "take care of" or not.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter Four: Hack In_

I've always been proud of my skill with a sword. Especially since my teacher had only been trained in the very basics of swordplay herself, and only passed those basics on to me. _Everything_ combat related comes naturally to Maylene after all. She doesn't know the proper terms for this technique or that, the names of any given stance or form. She just holds the blade and it does what she needs it to do. She's like that with everything that relates to fighting. I'm not, for the most part. My ability at hand to hand, so much less than her's, came about through long hours of bone-cracking effort. Luckily for me, I _do_ have a similar instinct with a katana. Especially lucky, at times like the one I was facing in Ecruteak City.

I ducked, twisted, and parried, barely keeping up with the speed of the slashes seeking out my tender hide. My opponent was smart and quick, never over-committing to an attack in such a way that I could throw him off balance, never under-committing to a point where I could slip inside his range. And he knew the terrain like I know the back of my hand. If I were even a step slower with my feet or sword, it'd have all been over already.

The man facing me was middle-aged, bearded and balding, but roped with muscle. He reminded me of Razor, the Veteran who forged my sword back when I was first getting into business as a PokéMercenary. He even had a similar form of hard-edged friendliness to him, despite the scything attacks he wove ahead of him as he advanced on me again. As I ducked a swipe that would have otherwise taken me right below the jawline and then forced him back and a step to the side using a quick thrust for the chest, my peripheral vision kept an eye on our surroundings looking for an edge.

We were dueling in Ecruteak's Kimono Dance Hall, where the famous Kimono Girls perform. It had expanded a tiny bit over the years, mostly by way of adding a bar in one corner near the door. The stage had also grown since Team Rocket's time, if only to allow for more dancers as the Kimono Girls trained apprentices to take over their roles as both dancers and priestesses of the mighty Lugia.

The room was largely empty, as early in the day as it was, but a pair of the famous dancers and a handful of customers stood at the edge of the stage watching. I couldn't take the fight in that direction for fear of getting them in the mix. The bar itself was too confining, my biggest advantage in this fight so far had been my height and range. My opponent had tried to herd me there multiple times already, and only frantic circling of the open floor had kept me from getting cornered. But wait, I thought to myself as my foe slipped aside from a horizontal cut aimed for his belly, if he wants me to go there perhaps I can use that and bait him.

I feigned fatigue, letting his blows come closer before parrying them, stumbling backwards rather than taking smooth flowing steps to avoid his attacks. It took only seconds for him to pounce on the perceived weakness, herding me back towards the bar and its confined space. I played it up, seeming to try and dart around him to safety only to be "forced" back into position by a thrust or slash. Finally, I felt the small of my back come to rest against the marble bar top, just between two of the luxuriously cushioned bar-stools. My blade was far off to the left, held in one hand and trembling as if my strength was flagging to badly to keep it steady. The swordsman facing me couldn't resist such a target. But he wasn't stupid either.

He whipped his sword around to my left, angled to point at the floor as it passed through the air. Clever man, the motion would assist his windup and give him power on the inevitable down-stroke while also parrying almost any attack I could launch from my current position. He definitely spotted a potential trap... but it was the wrong trap.

As the downward slash came, targeting the center of my skull in what I believe is called a "men" in kendo, I dropped to my knees and bent forward suddenly. His sword smacked hard into the edge of the bar as he followed through on the blow and stopped inches above my head. Suddenly the smile on his face was gone and he found himself looking down at the sword-point resting against his chest where I had thrust it upward just short of skewering him. He blinked in surprise a few times before finally stepping back with a guffaw of genuinely pleased laughter.

"Good fight, good fight," he grabbed the point of my sword, which was of course just a shinai rather than the good steel the owner was holding for me or even a hard wood bokuto, then used it to haul me to my feet. "Thought I had you today."

"You damn near did," I grinned, slapping the big man on the back. "You saw it coming, just didn't see which way it was coming from." The two of us leaned our training blades against the bar while the few spectators applauded the show. "Looks like drinks are on you again tonight Johnny."

"Haven't had a free sake in three days," he grumped good naturedly. "That girl Maylene you told me about taught you well kid." I stayed politely silent rather than correct him on how much Maylene had really taught me. You don't go around telling people you're better than your master.

"Well, its only been a week. If I go on lacking leads like this much longer, you'll have plenty more chances to beat free alcohol out of me." My own grumping was more sour than good natured by then. I'd been renting a tiny room above the Pokémon Center in town for eight days, roaming out around Johto on foot only to fly back on Big Bird empty handed every night. There hadn't been a sign of my quarry as of yet.

"Well, at least you've got help blowing off your frustrations. Too much rage and you won't notice the trail even if you find it." My new friend spoke true. He was a Pokémon collector, he would spend months seeking out new species to grab up and train. He made it harder on himself than perhaps need be, as he tended to select a specific Pokémon and trail it for weeks if need be to make the catch. The methodology was similar enough to mine, even if the targets were not.

"I know it, been down this road before. Just wish I had even the beginnings of a clue where to look next. Nothing is paying off. I'm headed out," I waved to Johnny to forestall further discussion. "Need to think now that my head's been cleared out."

I retrieved my real sword and set off across Ecruteak, heading west towards route 38. Despite the enjoyable sparring match with Johnny, I must've been scowling if the way folks on the street avoided me was anything to go by. I idly flicked a Poké Ball into the air and let Spitpyre out to walk alongside me, getting a companionable snarl from the fighting bird. Walking with a free Pokémon is traditional in Johto these days, not everyone does it but its not looked down on as it is in some regions. I'd attract less notice with him out than without.

As we walked, I stuck my hands in the deep pockets of my trench coat and thought furiously. I don't know Johto the way I know Sinnoh, most times when work takes me out that way its to a specific spot with a specific problem. Still, I was pretty sure I'd checked the obvious spots around the region. I'd tracked down a handful of ex-cons I knew of in the area and worked them for intel. Dug up one or two old Rocket haunts that might've been in use. Nothing doing with any of it. If these assholes were still hanging about Johto at all, they were better at hiding than I'd been at seeking so far.

So maybe I needed to look at this different, just like I had during the fight with Johnny. The crooks had stolen fifteen Lapras, too many to carry around even spread among a reasonable number of crooks. I'd been looking among areas with plenty of storage space or water, especially cold spots. But then, you didn't need real space to keep a number of large Pokémon in did you? Literal tons of Lapras could easily be stored in the PC Box network.

I'd not thought of it up to then, since criminal teams typically don't have much use for the PC network. The average grunt only has access to two Pokémon, maybe as many as four but often as little as one. And those are usually assigned to them by the higher ups, who themselves only have a handful of the poor beasts under their command (albeit much more potent ones). But thinking it through, storage of a large number of stolen Lapras might require it considering the situation. The raid on the preserve had been extremely well planned, executed fast. That spoke to me of a relatively small, but heavily trained force. Trainers with access to more than one Pokémon apiece, with a certainty. So if they weren't keeping the stolen Lapras in any of the secretive places I'd checked on...

A second thought hit me. To plan an operation like that, you'd need all sorts of intelligence on the target location. The strike-force had known exactly where to find the dive spots deep enough to conceal them from above. They'd known which wall of the tower to burn through to have immediate access to the guards and their equipment. They'd disappeared with the tower's boat in a hurry, before backup from the other towers could arrive to check on the communications failure.

"Son of a bitch, they knew exactly where they were going when they went in," I said aloud to Spitpyre. "And the only way you could know all that they knew was if someone _told _you." I growled aloud, and watched as the grass at Spitpyre's feet browned and smoldered with his response to my anger. "They had an inside man. Hop back in your ball buddy, I need to see Bird. We're going to see Bill."

It was good and dark by the time we made it over Mount Silver and across Kanto to Cerulean City, landing at the Pokémon Center as usual. Switching Spitpyre back into the lead, we headed north along route 24 on the way to Bill's cottage at the end of route 25.

Bill is an odd one in any circle he moves in. He's a self described Pokémaniac, but he doesn't go in for the Pokécosplay or custom t-shirts that are popular fashion among that trainer class. He's a spectacularly talented programmer and inventor who maintains the PC network in both Kanto and Johto all but single-handed, yet he'll drop his focus entirely if someone so much as holds up an Eevee in his presence. He's a weird dude. But he's also friendly, helpful, and very good at what he does. Besides which, he's the only person I know in the two regions involved who has full access to the entire network.

I knocked on the door, a bit louder than might normally be polite. It was somewhat late, after all, and I wanted to make sure he heard me. The door opened wide all in one go, and I found myself facing the man who built the first example of what is undoubtedly the most important computer system in the world. Bill is a smallish man, not much over five feet in height and probably 110 lbs tops. He doesn't look like a computer nerd so much as a very enthusiastic and friendly average guy. His hair is perpetually messy and uncared for, and his clothes are often wrinkled or even stained. He's the sort of driven, focused guy who can't spare too much attention for appearances.

"Hey Bill," I gestured towards the sky, "sorry for coming by so late, but my buddy and I were hoping you could help us with something." I waved in Spitpyre's direction as I spoke, and the mildly irritated look he'd been wearing as I opened the door melted into bright eyed wonder. Bill really does love Pokémon with the intensity of a small child. The sight of something like a Blaziken will soothe over almost anything with him.

"Sure, sure, Devil wasn't it? Come inside and we'll talk." I'd met Bill just the once, during a trip to Blackthorn City some years prior. I was almost surprised he'd remembered my "name," I guess I make an impression. I stepped inside the cottage, eyes scanning the darkened space automatically despite the implausibility of any threat lurking within. An Exeggutor grinned at me with three faces from its own bed in the corner, but nothing else moved within. I let Bill usher me into his kitchen and sat down while he began bustling about making tea.

"Nice place you got here. I envy you, living in Eterna City starts to feel sort of crowded after awhile." I blinked a few times, surprised at my own ability to make small talk when my mind insisted I make haste.

"I like it, yeah. Couldn't handle the city long-term, too many distractions," Bill said over his shoulder as he guided hot water into cups. "How do you take yours?"

"Steeped till its almost black with a drop of milk and all of the sugar," I watched as he quirked an eyebrow at that before shrugging and guessing the amounts. He guessed high, which is what I wanted, so he did pretty well for having gotten such an obtuse answer. Only when he'd settled cups and saucers on the table and had a sip did he bother broaching the subject of why I'd come. "So, how can I help you Devil?"

"I'm working over in Johto, tracking down some Pokémon thieves. Not having any luck running them down at the moment."

"Well, they're not here. Haven't seen any sign of anyone like that. Team Rocket isn't making another comeback are they?" He was mostly joking, but there was a degree of actual worry there. For all the threat they most definitely _didn't _represent to a strong trainer, the Rockets really were a nightmare for the average folk of Kanto and Johto.

"No, nothing like that. I think they've gone to ground in Johto, but they stole a large number of Pokémon. Fifteen in total, to be specific. I'm thinking they might be using the storage system to keep them under wraps until they're ready to leave the region." I hoped he'd go with it and let me keep the details under wraps, Oak and Lorelai were expecting some discretion after all. But Bill is ethical, in his way. He'll gladly test a new style of teleportation device on himself, but he's not so big on invading people's privacy. Come to that, neither am I, but Bill looked especially unhappy at the prospect.

"You want me to go pawing through people's boxes looking for stolen Pokémon? Not gonna happen pal. Even if I would do that, and I _won't,_ you'd be better off walking down the street shouting. There are millions of people in the network with dozens of boxes each." He stood up and walked angrily to the window over his sink. "Even discounting the empty, unused boxes, that'd take years to search."

"Oh come on Bill, you're _Bill," _I shook my head. "You and I both know you could throw together a search program or something that'd get it done in no time." I could see his eyebrows go up as he realized this was true, but flattery alone wasn't going to get this done. "Look, let me lay out some details here. I'm working for Oak, and he wants this kept quiet," I stressed quiet subtly, "but this is a little bigger than I made it sound."

I spelled it all out for him, sparing him the descriptions of the attack site. He looked a bit too squeamish for that sort of thing. He turned green enough as it was, once I mentioned the dead and injured guards, as well as the dead Lapras.

"Who would do something like that?" he finally asked, after a sickened silence had passed.

"I think I know at least one of the bastards behind this," I said, shooting 'pyre a look to keep him from burning through the floor in reaction to my anger. "He's a sniveling piece of shit who'd stand aside and let his bosses kill a little boy's Treecko," I suppressed a growl so as not to give the identity of that little boy away, "but he must've taken a level in badass to pull a job like this. I need your help to find him."

"I'm on it. I actually already have a search function in the system, left over from the early days when Pokémon used to glitch into the wrong box," he said as he walked over to a bulky console in the living area. I just need to redefine it to go system wide," he was typing fast, already focused on the task. I wandered over to have a look at the rows of Pokémon books, figuring I'd need to keep entertained while the computer whiz did his thing. I was just pulling down an encyclopedia of Fighting-types when Bill chuckled and said "Alright, I'm in. Want me to start scanning with Johto or Kanto? And don't forget, the Sevii Islands are technically on a separate network."

"Um..." I paused, flummoxed. I hadn't expected it to go quite that fast. "How long will the searches take, do you think?"

"Hmmm, I'd say about one day per region. Less than half that for the Islands." He craned around to look at me. "You got something to narrow it down? That'd help."

"Yeah, maybe. But this has to stay quiet, not even Oak can hear about this until I'm sure and have someone in custody, if it pans out. You good with that?"

"Sure, sure. I don't really hear from the Prof. that often, unless he's sending some kid with a Pokédex up this way. Whatcha got?" Satisfied, I dug into my memory and gave him five names. The names of Lapras poachers I'd caught and kicked the stuffing out of during my time as the preserve's sole guard, back during construction of the defenses. They'd been the best of the bunch, the most difficult to catch and the hardest to subdue. And against my advice, Prof. Oak had decided that anyone who gave me that much trouble had plenty of potential to be a guard.

"Check those five. Not a single one should have a Lapras, Oak and Lorelai agreed to let them have a hatchling once the population got high enough but that's projected for like five more years off." I paced over to glare at the screen over his shoulder. "If one of them has a Lapras, he's probably involved."

"Got a hit," Bill said. "Right here, Guard Jolson. Deposited a Lapras via the Fushia City Pokemon Center. That tracked, Jolson had been one of the more aggressive poachers back in the old days and he'd owned a Magnemite. I hadn't seen him with it since he hired on at the preserve, but he no doubt still had it.

"Can you shift it into a secure box for safe-keeping while I go find Jolson?" I asked, already headed for the door and reaching for Big Bird's Premiere Ball.

"No can do."

"What? Why?" I demanded. I badly wanted the gentle beasts away from anyone who would throw in with the raiders, let alone actually turn his Pokémon on his fellow guards.

"Because I just watched him withdraw it from the center in Cerulean City, just south of here," he smirked at me. "What are you gawping at? Go get him."

"Already gone!" I called, already out the door and airborne.

_Author's Note: Sorry this one is so very, _very_ late. A lot happened between chapter three and four, over here in the real world. I have a baby girl now, that'd be the biggest thing. But after all that, chapter four is finally a go. And it looks like Devil finally has a target to shoot for._


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter Five: Pursuit_

Its not far from Bill's cottage to the Pokémon Center in Cerulean City no matter how you go about it. Even on foot and with no particular hurry, if you avoid delays like Pokémon battles you'll get there in twenty minutes or so. With a bike, you can cut the travel time in half. Soaring through the air astride a Staraptor? Around a minute, tops.

I urged Big Bird into a wide circle of the town, keeping the Center in sight as we flew while I scanned for movement. Thankfully, Cerulean is neither huge nor a one Rapidash town. The streets were well lit, but few people were out and about. Thus, I was able to get a good view of the three or four folks who were ambling about. Of course, from high up in the air I couldn't even hope to identify them, so it occurred to me that it might be wise to urge Big Bird lower and nearer the Pokémon Center on the assumption that our quarry would not be in any great hurry. After all, he wouldn't know we were up here would he?

I didn't get the chance. I might not have been able to make out any features from so high up, but a Staraptor could count the hairs on Jolson's head from a mile up... if they could count that high. With a sudden enraged shriek, Big Bird folded her wings over my legs and dove at full speed toward the figure closest to the Center. I just had time for a cry of "Oh shit!" before we leveled out and landed in front of the shocked rogue guard.

"Forgot, you remember the guy huh big girl?" I drunkenly said to the bird of prey currently glaring at the foe. When I'd picked up Jolson during his poaching days... or rather, the first time I'd picked him up for poaching, he'd knocked Big Bird out with his Magnemite. Staraptor are aggressive beasts, and mine can hold a grudge for years.

"Holy hell, what's the idea scaring a man like that?" Points to Jolson, he'd recovered from our sudden appearance quite quickly. "I'm already stressed enough with... y'know, work. I'm gonna need another personal day if you keep pulling shit like that!" I sized Jolson up as his outrage took over the shock of our arrival. He'd been working out since he took the guard job, I pegged him at a neat 215 lbs, all muscle. He wasn't a tall man, only 5' 6" or so, and looked blocky and square from having that mass on that frame. He had a military crew-cut that would've been dark black if not for all the scalp showing through, and was still wearing his uniform, deep blue with icy accents.

"You're not on a personal day," I glared at him. I'd only had seconds to decide how to handle this, but I remembered Jolson pretty well. Scum he might be proving himself to be, but he had balls and bravado enough for three men. No sense trying to intimidate him into surrender, he'd laugh in my face. So, might as well start the music and get it over with. "Get ready, I know you're gonna fight so let's do it."

"Fine, you wanna get your bird fried again, we can do that," the suddenly grinning asshole plucked a ball from a bandolier of sorts that crossed his chest and chucked a Great Ball in a high arc, releasing his first Pokémon.

"Magnezone, eh? Must've take a vacation to Sinnoh since last time I handed you your ass." I shook my head.

"Not gonna switch? Shocker here took that bird of yours down in one go two evolutions ago. No? " I grimaced, what he said was true. And from a type-perspective I should indeed have switched out for Spitpyre or Iron Maiden and nailed the thing with a hard hitting Fire, Fighting, or Ground attack. But really, switching out can get to be a bad habit. I've seen many a skilled trainer lose Pokémon second guessing themselves, especially when they know what else the foe has. They start asking themselves things like "_My Raichu could Thunderbolt that Gyarados in one shot, but he has a Sandslash and he knows all that so he'll switch so I should put in my Octillery? But he knows that so he _won't_ switch and my Octillery will eat a Charge Beam so I shouldn't switch..._" and on and on. Its no good trying to battle like that, when you do things my way you really need to go by instinct. And instinct told me B.B. was going to get some payback today.

"We gonna do this or are you gonna stand around looking stupid all day?" I needled Jolson. I hadn't expected him to try and spook me into switching out, and idly wondered if he knew what was about to happen.

"Fine, Shocker give 'em a Volt Switch." I winced, that was a good choice. Not the strongest attack, but like most Staraptor my Big Bird isn't half as good at taking hits as she is at dishing them out. Even if this didn't end her, she'd be weakened enough for the next Pokémon in line to finish right out of the gate.

"Bird, Close Combat and don't hold back!" I was betting on my Pokémon's speed on that one, if she couldn't land the hit first the Magnezone would fry her and withdraw all in one go, taking no damage. But then, it wasn't much of a gamble. Made of heavy steel, Magnezone isn't very fast for an Electric-type.

Big Bird surged back into the air even as electricity began to gather around the Magnezone's whirling magnets and flow up to the antennae atop its head. She shrieked at her opponent, who had once defeated her in battle, and as she streaked towards it her talons closed into passing imitations of fists. Before the Steel/Electric-dual type could react, she had crashed into it in a whirling dervish of hammering blows from wings, beak and "fists," all aimed at the thinnest bits of its armor, at the places where plates joined or appendages attached.

It might have been a gamble on speed, but certainly not on attack. Big Bird swooped back to hover silently between Jolson and myself just as her opponent hit the ground as a tangled, dented wreck that discharged harmlessly into the ground. Shocker's trainer stood slack-jawed briefly from the relentless assault, shocked at the violence I'd just commanded against his Pokémon.

"I was trying to take you all alive last time, Jolson," I explained. "You'd never have taken my girl there out if she hadn't held back. And this time? We don't care."

"Fine, let's see what you can do against _this_ then!" the now enraged for snarled at me, tossing a plain Poké Ball which expelled a Golem. Rock/Ground, not good for my Bird. Oh, she could likely as not ruin this one with Close Combat as well, but her already crappy defenses were further compromised by using it just once. If she missed, she'd be in trouble.

"See, _now_ I'll switch," I recalled Big Bird and found my next ball by touch. Spitpyre was a good bet, but I didn't want to expose him to Ground attacks, especially since Golem almost universally know Earthquake. Lucky was completely out of this round for the same reason. One good Rock Slide or Stone Edge would wreck 'Scicle's day pretty quick, and Golem can learn Flamethrower via TM if the trainer has one. Iron Maiden could probably smash it with a good Iron Tail, but being half Steel made her just as vulnerable to Earthquake as anyone. That left just one choice.

Bruce blinked at the streetlights, red eyes rolling over white briefly as his lids flickered, then noticed the foe and growled through his gills. The Sharpedo bounced forward on his ventral fin, hungry to close in and wreak havoc on the Golem... or just hungry. I've literally seen that shark gulp down any number of things he shouldn't, from sharp edged Steel-types like Scizor to a Plusle or Minun.

"Fine then, bring on the Dark-type," Jolson was still livid at the damage done to his Magnezone, but now he was grinning around the anger. "Moss, show this punk a Steamroller." I arched an eyebrow, confused. I'd never actually seen a move by that name.

I was calling out to Bruce to hit back with Waterfall when the Golem struck, leaping above my shark and performing a sort of rolling back-flip that crushed Bruce down against the pavement. Blood spurted from his gills and from between his teeth, and it took me only a moment to realize that had been a super-effective hit. Considering his weaknesses and Jolson's comment, that must have been a Bug-type move. The Golem winced as it came to rest, rubbing at a strip of its rocky hide that had been worn smooth from contact with Bruce's Rough Skin.

"You're not down yet buddy, throw a Waterfall at this thing," I growled to my Sharpedo, who immediately launched himself from his prone position into the attack with a blast of water from his jet. Water coated him, washing away the blood as it poured out of his gills and gaping mouth, and then he made contact with a crunch and a splash.

"Moss, finish it off with a heavy slam! You're a damn fool Devil, my Golem is Sturdy..." he was cackling with triumph for a moment, but then trailed off as the Golem slumped to the side and passed out, bits of stone flaking off and a puddle of muddy water forming around its now prone form.

"And Sturdy only works for uninjured Pokémon. Mine has Rough Skin, so that ain't happening if you touch him, pal." I recalled Bruce, wincing as more blood trickled out of his mouth. He'd come close to going down there, I'd be paying the Pokémon Center a visit myself at this rate. "That's two down, last I knew you had four. Care to just hand 'em over and come answer some questions?"

"You wish. Let me introduce my buddy Pork Chop." The next ball out was a Luxury Ball, which opened to expel a Piloswine. This time I didn't stop to worry about the types, I just threw out a scuffed old Poké Ball and told Spitpyre to Blaze Kick the thing in the head.

The mighty Blaziken let out a triumphant snarl and emerged from the ball already on one foot, the other scything through the air surrounded by bright hot flames emerging from the vents on his ankle. He didn't bother to aim, contemptuously staring at Jolson as his fire converged on the Piloswine's face. Maybe that's why he missed.

Pork Chop flinched back and away from the burning attack, but no contact was made. 'Pyre stumbled slightly, off balance from the complete lack of resistance he'd met. He was totally unprepared for the Mud Slap his enemy's trainer commanded the Piloswine respond with, and let out a howl of pain as the pig manipulated the street at its feet to spray mud into his face. Even a low power Ground-move is painful for a Fire-type, even one with no naked fire on its body will still find combustion more difficult if its vents or face are coated in soil. Spitpyre shook his head, trying to clear his eyes at least, but no such luck. He took a swipe with his talons, trying to Slash the porcine Ice/Ground-type, but missed wildly.

"Now that its accuracy is FUBAR, nail that fucking chicken with Earthquake and be done with it!" Jolson called out, and I had to fight an edge of panic. I held on, grimly determined that my most powerful partner would not lose to an Ice-type.

"Spitpyre, Double Kick that thing and do not miss," I snarled, and the fighting bird responded immediately. Spinning in place, he flung out his left foot in a high arc, and would have missed again had the pig not been rearing up to perform its attack. Icy tusks shattered as the blow landed, and Spitpyre crowed in delight as he used that initial contact to find his target with the second kick. His right foot rose up like he was punting a football and caught the beast on the chin so hard it flipped onto its back and lay thrashing. From the force of the seizure, I'd have guessed a broken skull from the twin kicks. "Stop messing around Jolson, you can't win. This is over and you know it."

"Fuck that! Skarm! Fly!" His fourth ball, a Heavy Ball no doubt made in Azalea Town, flipped into the air and, as the name had given away, I saw a Skarmory streaking into the sky. "Don't worry about his Pokémon, hit the trainer on the way down!" I heard him call, and the Skarmory turned to orient on me, giving me a lovely view of its shining metallic feathers as it aimed its dive.

I was going to have to gamble again, there was no time to switch in someone who wasn't half blind from Mud-Slap. Jolson was leering expectantly, fully trusting that his Skarmory would slice me right in two. But I knew something he apparently didn't. Anyone who has trained a Blaziken or battled one knows how much leg strength they possess. They routinely grind stone into dust under their feet, kick holes in solid steel, and send Dark-types flying into a bloody heap with a single kick. What people don't always remember is that all that leg strength can do something besides just kick.

"Spitpyre," I got his attention as the Skarmory began its descent, folding up like a missile. "Sky Uppercut, if you'd please." Blaziken can't smile very well, the immobile beak sort of prevents much expression. But if he'd had lips and teeth, he'd have grinned. Even half-blinded, he managed to pick out the shining metal bird above and leap, driving himself upward with force enough to clear a ten story building with his fists tucked securely at his waist. And just as he drew level with the foe, one fist pistoned out and up to intersect neatly with the center of the Flying-type's throat.

It hit the ground before he did, bleeding heavily. Spitpyre's blow had dented its steel covering back into its body, essentially stabbing it with its own body. That one probably wasn't going to be flying again anytime soon. My Blaziken landed in a graceful crouch beside the bird and threw back his head to snarl in triumph, and I applauded him.

"Nice hit buddy," I congratulated my partner, then suddenly lunged past him and drew my sword in a blur to rest against Jolson's throat as he clutched one more ball, a Dive Ball I hadn't noticed at the very bottom of the bandolier. "That one," I said, snatching the ball out of his hands, "isn't yours. And unless you're the one who stole Gerty, it isn't strong enough to do anything but die fighting my team. So no. We won't be doing that." I glared full into his eyes until he dropped his gaze, staring at my blade rather than my eyes. "Now," I reached for my handcuffs and dangled them in front of him, "let's get these on you quick. Just might save some of your team if we return them to their balls now." I wrenched his arms up behind his back and closed the cuffs tightly on each wrist, then returned every Pokémon on the field except the Magnezone. That one was very dead. Then I shoved a black bag over his head and started dragging him back the way he'd come, towards the Pokémon Center.

"Now, we're gonna heal the wounded, and get someone out here to scrape your Shocker off the street. And then? You're gonna answer some questions buddy."

_Author's Note: This one is a little on the short side, and its pretty much all battle. But after the wait for the last chapter, and considering that this is the first real battle of the story? I figured that wouldn't be such a bad thing._


End file.
